


Statue

by TheUnfinishedProject



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, John is a Bit Not Good, M/M, Misunderstandings, POV John Watson, Pining John, Pre-Reichenbach, Pre-Slash, Purple Prose, Sherlock killed me inside, Short One Shot, i love ben's cheekbones, i suck, kind of, please do it, sad stares, shortfic, talk to each other, why do WE have to suffer so much, why do they have to suffer so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 14:29:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8582044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUnfinishedProject/pseuds/TheUnfinishedProject
Summary: Sometimes I catch myself watching you as you think, and I can’t help but wonder why I love you.





	

Sometimes I catch myself watching you as you think, and I can’t help but wonder why I love you.

You sit still in your armchair, eyes closed, priest-like hands set in a priest-like pose, a living, breathing statue unaware of its own beauty. The table lamp lightens up your features, a unique mixture of sharp angles and sleek curves, drawing shadows where there was none before. God only knows the palace halls you are walking in your mind, the infinite worlds you keep erasing and recreating in the space of a moment. 

I have no right to be in there. Flatmates or not, partners in justice or not, it doesn’t matter – when it comes to the inner part of you, I’m just like everyone else. A stranger. An outsider.

You have no idea how much it pains me.

Sometimes, in the past, I let myself indulge in fantasies. They were just that – fantasies: a warm body next to mine, prone to comfort and affection. A connection, both in thought and sentiment, that could be trusted upon and last no matter what would happen. In short, a safe harbor to come home to when the world becomes too much to take in.

Of course, I had to make them slide, eventually. They weren’t healthy, and they weren’t true. Above all, they were bound to fail. And once they did that, they were bound to get back at me and hurt me, because you don’t feel thing that way, now do you? Expecting you to would mean lying to myself, as well as manipulating my idea of you to change you into someone you’re not. Someone you will never be.

Oh, I’m sure you care for me in some sort of superficial, methodical way. If you didn’t, I doubt you’d allow me to follow you around, to watch your back on a mission, to buy your milk. You even call me your friend – how many have that privilege? – and I believe you. What I’m not sure of is how long your commitment to me would last, were a cause greater that you and I to turn up, smashing everything I know and care about in a matter of seconds. 

It’s not your fault, as much as I’d love to blame you for it. It’s just your nature. You are a man of logic, and if you can’t help acting accordingly in every daily situation you come across, why would you react in a different way to an exceptional one? No, the truth is that if I proved myself to be a liability in the hour of need, you’d let me go, without regrets and without turning back. You’d cut the thin ropes that keep me bound to you, and let me fend for myself no matter the cost.

I’m not saying that you would enjoy it. Perhaps it would be unpleasant, but you would carry the maiming on anyway, for the sake of everything else. There wouldn’t be any malice in your gesture. But it would be stone cold. Quick. Like a gunshot. 

You have no idea how much the idea terrifies me.

But then.

But then suddenly you’ve come to life again, eyes sparkling and cheeks burning in excitement, so much different from the motionless statue you had become, and the time for thinking has run out, for me at least. You spring to your feet, a path I wasn’t able to follow clear in your mind, ready to be tread – to be run. Sometimes you even grab me by the shoulders and spin me around in happiness, and sometimes you don’t. It doesn’t matter. You don’t know, but I’m already in your wake, the contagious flame of your glory burning in my chest. And I realize that case after case, chase after chase, I will always stick around, no matter the risk – for being with you, even if just like this, is worth the cost.

Sometimes I catch myself watching you as you think, and I can’t help but wonder how could I ever not love you.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Sherlock fanfiction and, honestly? It could have been better. Oh, well. It's 10 p.m. I can say that tried.  
> So...watching the series end was excruciating, but falling into Johnlock Hell was even worse. Season 4 better hurry up, or I'm going to die.  
> Thanks to TJLC for ruining my life.
> 
> On a side note, English isn't my first language, so if you find any mistakes feel free to point them out and I will edit them :)  
> Hope you enjoy this!  
> (No, seriously, don't read it)


End file.
